Everybody else was caught cheating, but not Armstrong, or so we were led to believe.

It was a myth.

Manti Te'o, All-American linebacker, spearheaded Notre Dame to the national championship game with more than 100 tackles, seven interceptions and an inspiring story about overcoming the death of his grandmother and girlfriend in a short span.

When Te'o talked about his girlfriend, he'd speak of her love for the "holy mother." He presented her as saintly, as if she was too good to be true, which, by the way, she happened to be.

The girlfriend was a hoax.

The line between fact and fiction has been blurred to the degree we've become one unbelievable movie plot after another, accompanied by a perpetual loop of reality TV.

When Armstrong was annually winning the Tour de France, it didn't add up. Seldom in the history of sports have more cheaters been implicated than elite-level cyclists for blood doping, a technique that artificially improves endurance. There are ways of beating tests for cheating. Armstrong was more a master of passing the tests, than actually excelling at his sport without cheating. He wasn't the only person not cheating and somehow winning anyway, which was the myth.

But we believed it. Who doesn't like it when somebody not only recovers from severe illness like Armstrong, but rises to heights not imagined in his sport? It wasn't like Armstrong has been a deadbeat, who has never given back. Look at all the money he raised to fight perhaps the biggest enemy of all - cancer.

Likeable? Armstrong was the ultimate cool guy, who had overcome a classic American dysfunctional upbringing to defy all odds. The fact he was adamant with "how dare you ask that question" denials only added to his aura. "Good for him," people would mutter under their collective breath. They were legitimate questions. He gave bogus answers. But this has become the time of "just don't get caught," of "deny, deny, deny," of "lie, lie, lie." And if you do get caught, the big hope, if you're famous enough, is you will be forgiven anyway, as long as the mea culpa is perceived as sincere.

Te'o's tale is beyond bizarre. To believe the web he and Notre Dame are spinning would soar to the maximum level of gullibility. It adds up like two-plus-two equals 9. Whatever the motivation, there is deceit involved. Notre Dame and Te'o clearly didn't plan to reveal this if Deadspin had not reported it.

It's a victimless infraction in a sense. Te'o didn't break a law. He didn't cheat his sport. Ultimately, Te'o and Notre Dame are paying a huge price for this transgression in the court of public opinion. Their crime: Being phony.

Yet, Te'o is 21 years old. In his lifetime, look at the examples American society has presented him. Elite, world-class athletes like Armstrong and disgraced Olympian Marion Jones using performance substances or artificial techniques to rig the race. Baseball players on steroids and hiding behind the "everybody but me" defense" or a "prove it in court or shut up" shield. There is a constant theme throughout many reality TV shows that can be easily skewed by the young and the restless. It is cheating, deceit, backstabbing and shameless self-promotion, especially if it is perceived as something else, pays handsomely in adulation, dollars or both.

It's the Real World.

Lance Armstrong and Manti Te'o aren't as atypical as we once believed.